


Lorne's Team: Just Another Handy Ritual

by mandykaysfic



Series: Lorne's Team [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parrish was the distance man for Lorne's team in these situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lorne's Team: Just Another Handy Ritual

“So, it's definitely just distance.” Lorne clarified the terms of the ritual. “And you guarantee none of the participants are required to consume special food or beverages beforehand.” They'd been caught out with that one in the past. “Can we nominate our own participant?” 

The clan chief nodded. “You have the right of it. Trade terms in favor of the winner. We shall look forward together. If you are satisfied, bring over your man, unless it is yourself to take up the challenge?” The chief gave Lorne the once over and laughed heartily as he waved him away.

Lorne shook his head and headed over to the trees where his team waited in the shade. He knew he wasn't the best at distance. He thought that was probably Reed.

“Is it?” asked Coughlin. The whole team had been present at the initial negotiations.

“Yeah, but it's not too bad. One of us against one of them. Winner dictates trading terms two to one, their favor. It's a one shot competition for distance. That would be you, Reed.”

“No, sir. I've got volume. Coughlin's distance.”

“I'm not distance. I'm speed. I thought distance was Reed too, Sir.”

“I just said I'm volume. I'm only distance if alcohol is involved, and I need at least three glasses of beer. This one's a straight competition.”

“Gentlemen.” Lorne needed to stop the brewing argument.

“I'm 'distance, singular',” said Parrish, finally able to get a word in. “Also 'distance, speed', but from what you've said, time is not a factor.” He held out the tablet he'd been carrying. The screen showed a spreadsheet, clearly labeled 'Lorne's Team', demonstrating enough combinations of facts and figures relating to the team's masturbation and ejaculation physiology to make up the most thorough of scientific studies. It had taken three separate special team training sessions to gather all the data Parrish had recorded.

Reed and Coughlin pored over the tablet while Lorne murmured instructions in Parrish's ear as he escorted him over to the chief. He kept a neutral expression as they were introduced to the chief's contender. He was a youngish man with a wiry build who only came up to Parrish's shoulder and rejoiced in the name of Brongoh. Wild cheers and catcalls greeted his appearance. His skills were obviously well known.

“You can do this, Parrish,” encouraged Lorne.

Parrish and Brongoh were led to their places in a dusty clearing not far from the main village. An area was quickly swept of all debris and a line drawn at their feet. Brongoh had his sandals kicked aside and pants in heap behind him before Parrish had so much as undone a button.

“As you began life,” ordered the chief when Parrish stilled.

Lorne castigated himself at that; there was always one detail they managed to forget to ask about. He raised his eyebrow and indicated to the chief he'd be responsible for Parrish's clothing. At the chief's nod, he stepped up, being careful to remain behind the line. “Sorry,” he muttered as he took the various pieces of uniform.

“It'll be your turn when they want multiple offerings to their gods,” said Parrish placidly as he placed his underwear neatly on the top of the pile.

“Huh. Good luck then. We'll be cheering for you.” Brongoh's fan club had formed a line at right angles to the one in the dirt. Coughlin and Reed had taken up positions opposite. Lorne held Parrish's clothes against his chest and gave him an encouraging thump on the shoulder before going to join them.

The chief waved a hand. “Begin,” he commanded and sat back to watch.

Lorne spared a glance for Brongoh, who already had both hands at his groin. He blinked at the speed the man worked himself so early on. In comparison, Parrish's hand seemed almost lazy as he began with the slow strokes Lorne found so mesmerizing. Feet shoulder width apart, his other hand behind his back and head tipped toward the sky, eyes closed and a slight frown of concentration drawing his brows together, Parrish presented such a picture that even Brongoh was not above stealing glances. When his free hand moved around to tease a nipple, Lorne couldn't help licking his lips. He forgot to join the others in calling out encouragement until Reed's elbow jabbed him sharply.

“Par-rish. Par-rish. Par-rish.” Three against a dozen, Lorne's team tried their best to drown out Brongoh's friends. Parrish's hand matched their rhythm and his pale, slender cock filled beneath their gazes.

Loud cheers erupted on the opposite side when Brongoh ejaculated hard and long onto the dirt in front of himself. The first spurt reached the farthest and by the excitement it generated, it was a worthy distance. 

Parrish kept his eyes closed and continued stroking. Within a short time, he shuddered through his climax. The chief rose from his seat to examine the results. 

Lorne pulled a bottle of water from his pack and handed it to Parrish, who took it thankfully.

“How did I do?” he asked. 

“It looked pretty close. Here comes the chief.” 

Lorne straightened while Parrish shuffled uncomfortably. He'd had enough of being naked in public.

“We will trade. You will gain this much.” The chief held his thumb and forefinger less than two inches apart. 

“Well done.” Lorne congratulated Parrish with a quiet dignity when all he wanted was to whoop and holler and high five his team.

“Next time may the gods grant gains in our favor,” said the chief as they headed back to the village to settle their business.

“Next time?”

“Of course. A new deal is struck each time. It would not be fair otherwise.”

Lorne hastily agreed, and wondered if one of the other teams could be persuaded to negotiate the next trade. He'd get Parrish to check the spreadsheets well before they needed to return.

END


End file.
